Autumn in Portland

Few of us enjoy discomfort. We're stressed after a long day, pour a glass of wine. The news horrifies us, pay less attention. Our head aches, pop a pill. A conversation gets too intimate, we end it and figure out a way to avoid the topic, maybe even the person, thereafter. I'm neither assigning judgment nor claiming I've ever responded differently. Instead, I'm questioning how much of our lives are spent shifting around that which would really challenge us. Growth, as far as I understand anyway, is uncomfortable.
Mind you, this is coming from the woman who has always opted for the "comfort" of new and anonymous in an unfamiliar city. It's only natural that our first instinct is to protect ourselves. Survival and such, you know. But a year into life in San Francisco, I fear that many of my fellow inhabitants are confusing self-care with safeguarded withdrawal. The epicenter of American tech and innovation and we've yet to "solve" the homelessness issue; a multi-faceted problem, to be fair, but still. Why and how?
Then again, I'm not sure I have it in me to address the loud silence from some when it comes to our latest Supreme Court appointee because my job requires me to breathe in the space of heartless rhetoric and immigration policy. It's all together awful. Important, too.
And this is before considering what's taking place beyond the U.S. borders.
The horrors of our current reality can be paralyzing. Let's choose action anyway, still. We may not be able to do everything, but we can do something; like vote by Tuesday, November 6th, for example. (Please confirm the precise when and where for you). As for my addressing more personal discomfort–confronting relational discord, letting go of love, establishing new memories in special places such as Portland... I'm working on it. Aren't we all? Here's to hoping there is growth to be found in the trying.